The Kite Man
Tall and Lean, of indeterminate age,
Old runners and jeans his stock in trade.
Bare chest the colour of burnished leather,
Always exposed in any kind of weather.
Muscles that ripple in the sun,
Strong arms ready for some fun.
In magic hands he holds the strings,
That sent his kites on gossamer wings.
Like giant eagles from on high
They dip, then soar towards the sky.
Shades of purple, blue and gold
Catching the breeze for all to behold,
Some times in formation, three or four,
Seeking the heavens' endless heights,
Or swooping to skim the earth' delights.
Who is this man with magic hands?
The most talented kite flyer in the land!
Around the world he is known as the best
As he puts his phantom flock to the test.
The beauty of such a unique art
Can banish the cares of the heaviest heart.
A goodwill ambassador from afar
Bringing joy to others, wherever they are!-written for "The Kite Man of Kitsilano"
By Thelma "Murray" MacMillan.
Vancouver, B.C. Canada.
Return to Poems Main Page